


give me the burden (give me the blame)

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: Chloe had planned to have sex with Lucifer today.
She just didn’t expect it to happen like that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This... is just smut. And angst. Smutty angst. I don't even know anymore, this show broke me.

Chloe had planned to have sex with Lucifer today.

She just didn’t expect it to happen like that.

Hell, she had planned to have sex with Lucifer for a while now – it would be lying but to say she isn’t attracted by him, and that his reputation doesn’t have her curious. Deep down, she always knew things were dead in the water with Dan, had been for a very long time now; the call to her lawyer had been the last nail in the coffin of their past relationship. Not that she wanted to jump straight into another relationship, or that she was planning to use Lucifer as a rebound, but.

It was on her mind, just – the possibility of having sex with him. It’s only the sane – the realistic, uptight – part of her that had stopped her from making a move. She knows he wouldn’t even need a word, just a smile, just a crook of her finger, for him to jump into action. So she’s been playing coy for a few days, pretending like she doesn’t picture that fine piece of British ass in her bed every time she closes her eyes.

She had planned to have sex with Lucifer today, just like she had planned to have sex with him all week long. But she never pictured it like that, with him showing up in her bedroom in the middle of the night, when she’s about to go to bed. Trixie has been asleep for hours and Maze isn’t back home yet, won’t be until the sun rises, and Lucifer shows up in her bedroom without a sound.

She’s about to yell at him for it, when she notices how puffy and red his eyes are, how broken he looks – anything she wanted to say dies on her tongue, and she’s left staring at him in panic, having no idea how to deal with him when he is not his usual, cocky self.

“Are you okay?” she asks him, even if the question is meaningless.

Still, he shakes his head in reply, and moves closer to her – not meeting her eyes, instead staring at the floor, hunched shoulders and uncertain gait. He moves closer until his body is only inches from hers, until she can hear his ragged breathing and how he’s barely holding it together, on the verge of tears. He shakes his head once more before he raises one hand to brush his fingers against her bare arm. Goosebumps appear where he touches her, and Chloe barely need more than that to pull him toward her, to crush him against her in a hug.

His hands wrap around the fabric of the tank top she wears to sleep, his nose pressed to her neck – he doesn’t cry, but breathes loudly, little sounds catching in his throat when she draws circles on his back with the flat of her hand. It takes Chloe some times to understand the words he is mumbling against her skin, to hear the “You’re safe, you’re safe” he can’t seem to stop repeating, holding on to her a little more tightly.

She pushes him away, just enough to finally look at him in the eyes. He looks properly wrecked, his own eyes moving all over her face as if committing her to memory, as if she could disappear at any moment now. Chloe is reminded of their earlier conversations, and how he thought she was under some threat. It didn’t make sense back then, and it still doesn’t, but whatever happened must have shook him enough for Lucifer to think she was in any kind of danger – and for him to check on her in the flesh.

“I’m fine,” she tells him, even if he still seems to be denying the truth about her well-being. Her hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing against the roughness of his five stubble. “I’m fine,” she repeats with a little more conviction. “I’m okay.”

He opens his mouth in a broken sigh, and perhaps it is all Chloe needs to rise on her tiptoes, hand anchored between his soft curls. Her lips brush his at first, tentative, before he crushes his mouth to her like a drowning man swallowing a breath of fresh air. She loses her balance for a moment with the strength of his kiss, before she leans against him, before he pulls her closer, closer until she can only taste his tongue, can only feel the hard plane of his chest against her breasts. She sighs into the kiss, deepening it, a moan stuck at the back of her throat when his fingers get lost in her hair, when his hand wanders beneath her tank top. He’s warm and rough and hungry, desperate, and she relishes the feelings, lets them consume her.

They’ve been toying over the line for too long now, soothing each other in such intimate ways when they feel down – there was no way it wouldn’t end like this, with the comfort of her soft body against his, with his hands holding on to her like one would to a lifebelt.

She moves backward until her legs bump against her bed, and then lies down on the mattress, pulling him down with her. He follows with a grace that she wouldn’t have thought of him, not in his current state, finding his way between her opened knees without even breaking the kiss. His hands are everywhere then – caressing her sides, brushing against her breasts, gripping her thighs until she’s certain it will leave marks. His hands can’t stop moving, touching, exploring, and she sighs into his mouth under his ministrations, nipples perking and warm pooling between her legs.

She’s shaking so much, overwhelmed with desire, that it takes some effort before she manages to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He shrugs the piece of clothing off as fast as he can while she takes care of his pants, fingers hooked in his boxers so that when she pulls down he is bare to her – his naked body just as glorious as she remembers, lean and smooth and perfect.

His own hands find the fabric of her shorts, but she pushes them away then, in a surprisingly coordinated movement, flips them both so she’s now towering over him, hands pressed into his chest. She remains still for a moment – just a moment to appreciate how hard he is against her thigh, and the way he looks up at her. Nobody has ever looked at her like that before, with so much wonder and awe and fascination, like he just had an epiphany, like he wants to hold her and never let go. And hold her he does, hands on her hips as he pulls her down on him until she gasps and starts moving. Little rolling motions of her hips, just enough to create friction with the fabric of her shorts, just enough to tease the both of them.

She doesn’t stop moving, even as she gets rid of her tank top, even as one of his hands raises to grab her breast – thumb drawing circles on her nipple, a moan on her lips as he bites down on his. It takes some effort after that to detach herself from him long enough to get rid of the shorts too, and her panties with it, but then she’s back when she belongs, skin against skin as their naked bodies move as one, as her breath catches in her throat every time he brushes against her clit.

It is too much.

It is not nearly enough.

She leans forward to open the drawer of the bedside table and grab a condom that Maze has put there, along with a bunch of sex toys that Chloe will never even touch, before opening it and putting it on Lucifer. That seems to set him into action, as he sits up, leaning on one arm while his other hand gets lost in her hair once more. He brushes his lips against her and – Chloe may have pictured that, them, several times, but she never pegged him like that. Gentle. Tentative. Careful.

She can’t say that she minds, especially with the soft sound he makes at the back of his throat when she finally grabs him and guides him inside her, inch by glorious inch until it leaves her breathless, until she can only feel the warmth and the fullness of him inside her, until her mind is only Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer.

He kisses her deeply when she starts rocking against him, a slow rhythm of her body on top of his, her breasts brushing his chest until it’s too much, until her orgasm is building up within her and leaving her a panting mess. Lucifer breaks the kiss, if only to press his face to her neck, breathing hard. His teeth brush against her skin, just enough to make her gasp. Any other day, he would purr at her, a well-deserved innuendo on his tongue. But right now he only stills for a second before he bites down on her shoulder, the sting soothed by his tongue seconds later. She swallows down a loud moan, remembering at the last moment that they are not alone in the apartment, yet pulls on his hair. He seems to get the message, biting down on her shoulder a second time before he sucks a hickey into her neck.

He’s shuddering against even as he kisses her again, his hand now between her legs, and Chloe knows that he’s close, that he’s holding back for her. His thumb finds her clit, and her body is so hardwired that it only takes a few expert circles pressed into her for the orgasm to build up, a sigh on her lips as she closes her eyes. The shiver moves up her spine, leaving her warm and boneless as she sags against Lucifer’s chest, his arm already there to catch her and hold her up.

“Fuck,” is all she finds to say.

Then again, no innuendo to come and mock her, reminding Chloe of the unusual situation she finds herself in – that is, until a gasp escapes her when Lucifer pushes her back against the mattress, towering over her. He’s so close it only takes him a few back-and-forth motions before he comes too, with a groan of her name on her lips before he lets himself fall on top of her.

She caresses his hair, appreciating the weight of him for long minutes, until it becomes too uncomfortable and she wriggles beneath him to send him a message. He gets it alright, moving off of her to get rid of the condom while she goes to the ensuite bathroom to clean up. Chloe tries not to look at the mirror, but she catches a glance of herself anyway – messy hair and rosy cheeks, a satisfy look in her eyes. It’s been a while since she’s seen this side of her.

When she goes back to her bedroom, Lucifer is still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He seems lost in his own world anyway and, not for the first time, Chloe wonders what it feels like to be in his shoes – what is going on in that mind of his. She shrugs on a t-shirt too big for her before she goes to sit by his side, legs folded under her and fingers brushing against his chest. He glances at her, storm still brewing in his eyes, before he moves until his head is on her lap, until her fingers are in his hair.

She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t say anything. She just lets him cry, tears hot against her bare legs, lets him sob until he finally calms down, until she forces him to move under the covers. She doesn’t ask even when he falls asleep with his head on her breast and his legs tangled with hers, when his breaths finally even out.

He probably would give her answers, anyway.


End file.
